Things work out (most of the time), a Mortal Instruments story
by xBookxWormxLovex
Summary: My own personal view of what I think happened between Valentine, Jocelyn, and Luke before and during the Uprising.
1. Chapter 1

His eyes bore into you. You used to love them, the way they lit up when he smiled, or talked about something he loved. You can't help but remember that you used to be able to listen to him talk for hours. You loved the way they took you in as if you were water and he had been in the dessert for years, decades even. The way his now close cropped hair fell into them; framing them with the light blond color that brought out the softness of them. They way their color reminded you of the sky right before dawn. The way they lightened at the edges, and even the darkest part of them had flashes of lighter colors; blue, gray, green, even gold. Yet, they have changed. Just like the night must turn to day. Still, Brooklyn at day is still the Brooklyn it was at night, right? Perhaps, but Brooklyn during the day is wild, hectic, so different from how at night it is calm, peaceful even. No, they are not the same. Not really. Brooklyn during the day is... Violent. That's the only way the woman knew to describe the man's eyes before her now. The lighter colors had all disappeared, and now they were black. They had been nearly black before, yes, but these eyes were much different than they had been, all those years ago. They have such a fire to them, and not the beautiful kind. The dangerous kind that destroys everything it touched. But this is what you always wanted, right? To bring the dawn into his eyes, the fire that you possessed? No. Not like this, Jocelyn Fairchild realizes. Never like this. Luke had tried to warn her, but she hadn't listened. She realizes that the change had been long before she had wanted to believe. Was it when his father died? Perhaps. Perhaps a small part. Was it when Luke had been turned? No, before then. And, she realized, he was the one who caused him to be changed. He destroyed his own _parabatai._

"What's wrong, Jocelyn?" His voice was cold, steady, deathly calm. All traits she would've never associated with Valentine if she had been describing him before now. His perceptiveness, though, would have been. It was something else that had drawn her to him, but now it just made the ice cold terror in her heart grow stronger. "Nothing, I'm just tired." Jocelyn could not bear to look into those eyes, the ones she had loved once. He touched her arm, softly, and the gesture was too intimate, no stranger should touch her like this. Before she could think about it, she pulled away. "I... You've changed. You are a language I am no longer fluent in, but one that I still remember how to read." Now, it was her turn to surprise him. She had never loved poetry or writing; neither had he. She was more of a visual person, one that fell in love with art and paintings rather than poems or books. She sighed, and decided to be more straightforward, he always appreciated that much. "Could you tell me honestly that you could love a complete stranger? Allow yourself to tell them all of your secrets; to be intimate with them?" He stood, too, and he was tense, as if preparing for battle. The battle he was sure to win. Bile rose in her throat as he spoke in that same calm, measured tone that he had never used with her before. "Have you ever loved me, Jocelyn?" He used to say her name gently, with slight throatiness, that led her to believe that it was his favorite thing to say. Now, he said it with the same coldness that he said with anything else. "I fell in love with the boy with kind, smiling eyes and an easy-going grin. Not the man with the hate filled eyes and the cold smile tinged with malice. Tell me, where is that boy now, Valentine?" "You of all people should know that people change." His tone changed for an instant, into a mocking, cruel, sadistic one. He meant Luke, he had to. "Luke would not have been changed if you had not allowed him to." A week ago, she would not have been able to say that. Anger colored his voice now, too. "It's him, isn't it? Causing you to act this way." It wasn't a question, not really. "Why do you blame everyone else for what you've done?" He stepped forward in such a way that made Jocelyn want to run far away and never return and fall to her knees at the same time. But he would never hurt her, right? He couldn't have changed that much. "What have I done, exactly?" She didn't, couldn't, answer. There were too many things she could say, and all of them were sure to anger him more. She realized then that she was terrified of him, and a small part of her couldn't help but think of Luke and his gentle smile and soft, steady blue gaze. She felt his strong hands gripping her shoulders tightly, far too tightly, and he whispered savagely, "tell me what I've done to make you hate me." "This is proof of how you changed. Luke would never do this to me." She whispered, instantly regretting it. She didn't know what she expected him to do; realize what he'd done? Turn back into his old self? Anything but what she saw now; his eyes filled with rage and a hatred so deep and strong that it made her soul ache, and her heart to very nearly stop beating. "You should get used to pain, Jocelyn, because when you're precious Lucian thirsts for Shadowhunter blood like all demons do, he will get it from you in the most painful way possible." Anger tightened her chest, making what she was about to say much easier. "Is he the demon here, Valentine? Is he the one who injected his pregnant wife with demon blood just to see what would happen? Is he the one who turned his parabatai into a werewolf?" Something flashed in his eyes, but he turned away and left the room before she could see what it was.


	2. Chapter 2

She had been planning to leave for awhile now, subconsciously, she just didn't know when or how. Once she had composed herself, she started towards her room to pack. As Jocelyn passed Jonathan's room, she froze. She knew know what he had done to him, their only child. He had made him a monster, a demon. But, if he had demon blood in him, didn't that make him a Downworlder of sort? She smiled despite herself; Valentine, among other things, was a hypocrite. She wouldn't miss the part of her son that was a monster, but she would miss the son she never got a chance to know, to love. Jocelyn shook her head to clear it, then continued on her way.

She knew she had to hurry, Valentine could be home any second, though she doubted it. It seemed that he lately had no feelings, but she knew that he used to feel emotions very severely, especially anger. Small annoyances could easily turn into full blown rage in a matter of seconds, and it usually took him hours to cool down from these incidents. She took every belonging she had, in case he tried to track her. Hopefully by that time she would be too far away for it to matter.

While she was packing, she kept feeling waves of nausea, but she tried not to focus on that too much. Valentine had told her many times that her feelings got into the way too much, so she wouldn't let them now. As if in a trance, she placed her bag on her shoulder, and left the place that she had been happy in for so long. The place that now made her so miserable. She didn't know where she was going, but she sure wasn't going to stay there.

 _Luke,_ she had to find Luke. Once Valentine realized she was gone, Luke would be the first person he would go after. She had to warn him. She race do the nearest wall, and started making a portal. Once she saw its swirling purple patterns, she visualized Luke, his brown hair, his steady blue eyes, his kind smile. She stepped forward, and felt the strange sensation of being transported through space, towards the unknown. It was better, she thought, than being trapped in an all too familiar place that had become foreign to you seemingly overnight.


End file.
